


The Ground Shall Sorrow Be

by etoilecourageuse



Series: Bitter Longings [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 3, Coma, Comfort, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Sleep Deprivation, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-28 15:05:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6333769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etoilecourageuse/pseuds/etoilecourageuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Night by night and day by day Catelyn prayed for her son’s awakening, to the Seven and the Old Gods alike, until her voice began to fade, until it became too painful to speak, too painful even to whisper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ground Shall Sorrow Be

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LoveChilde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveChilde/gifts).



She had not slept for days, had not dared to sleep, not dared to even close her eyes as she was afraid, so afraid to lose him, so afraid that he could leave as soon as she allowed to fade even for a moment, that… She had not slept for days, perhaps weeks… 

Catelyn had no memory of how long she had been confined to this chamber, of how many times she had watched the sun set and rise until she had given order for the windows to be covered at last, as even the faintest gleam of light would burn within her eyes, as surely Bran… 

Bran. Her boy… He lived. He lived and yet he was gone, seemed so distant as though he had long left this world, as though he were lingering between life and… 

She would not finish her thought. It felt like a curse to her to utter the word even within her mind, even in silence, and she would not, would never… Grief had already long overwhelmed her, would overwhelm her every minute anew as she sat beside his bed, incapable of taking her eyes from him and yet so pained by the sight of her son, broken and still… 

How could she possibly sleep when he suffered, suffered so beyond words, when he was in such need of protection, more than he had ever been before? If she were to sleep, if she were to allow herself to fade now, now in this moment, if perhaps she were to even leave the room when in truth her place was here, right here by his side, if she were to leave and he… Her boy… Her sweet boy… 

No. Catelyn would not leave, of course she would not leave, as anything but Bran had so suddenly faded into insignificance, most of all her own necessities… She would not leave, would not allow herself to sleep and constantly battle against her weariness until he were to open his eyes, until he were to return to her, his gaze crossing hers, until… 

It was not rare that visitors came to his chamber merely to leave moments after they had entered, merely to speak to her, perhaps to implore her to leave, to implore her to rest… What fools they were to believe her to listen, to believe her capable of finding rest, even if she were willing, even if she were to grant them the favour. Rest… To rest while her son lay injured within his bed, to even consider… What fools they were. 

Instead she prayed. Night by night and day by day Catelyn prayed for her son’s awakening, to the Seven and the Old Gods alike, until her voice began to fade, until it became too painful to speak, too painful even to whisper. She prayed, prayed for Bran to return to her… 

Ned would at times join her, his step so quiet that she did not notice him opening the door to the chamber and entering until she felt his hands so tenderly upon his shoulders, until she could hear his voice so softly against her ear… 

“Cat…”

One word. It was merely one word that would tell everything, one word full of such sorrow, such emotion, that was enough to express his concern, his concern for both his son and wife, the gentle reproach of negligence towards herself, and the order to sleep, at least for an hour… One word. One word was enough.  
His eyes, too, would implore her to rest and yet she refused, refused to obey as fear had once more become her constant companion, such fear that Bran were to be harmed even further, that he… And wasn’t he in such need of her? Her boy, wasn’t he in such need of his mother? Never would she forgive herself if once more she were to fail to protect him, if one more he… Never. 

Catelyn refused to obey and yet she was so glad, was so glad for her husband’s presence as she would tolerate only him by her side, as she… She was so glad that he had come, that he would sit down beside her and join her silent watch over Bran despite the preparations for his departure, despite the king’s stay at Winterfell… Hadn’t he always given her strength? Ned, her Ned… Hadn’t he always given her such strength, such comfort, hadn’t he always been her rock, the rock her entire life was built upon? She was so glad that he had come, that he was here… 

He loved his children, loved his children no less than she, he, too, was stricken by grief over Bran’s fall and yet… Yet he would leave. Yet he would travel South and take the girls with him, would have taken their son, too, if… How could she possibly cope without him? How could she possibly cope without her lord husband, without her Ned, how could she possibly cope without their silent nightly vigils, without the quiet, deep sound of his voice when he would speak to her after all, without the steady support of his body in times her strength were to leave her? How? So far… He would be so far from her… 

Catelyn wanted to scream, wanted nothing more than to scream, to implore him to delay his journey to the capital until Bran had woken, until… But she would not, would not allow herself to lose her composure, would not allow herself to ask for a favour she could not possibly be granted, she… She needed to focus, needed to focus entirely on her son. 

Ned would once more wrap his arms about her waist the night he came for her for the last time, the night he was to bid his farewell, would give her gentle hold as otherwise perhaps she would have broken down, as otherwise she would have surrendered to weariness for merely a moment and sunken to the ground, as otherwise… He would not speak but held her, merely held her, releasing a quiet sigh of concern as he seemed to notice the trembling of her body. She had not slept for days… Catelyn had not slept for days and would not, would not allow herself to… 

But within his arms she faded. Within his arms she felt safe, felt as though turn for the better, felt as though even Bran... Within his arms sleep came for her slowly but gently, causing her to drift into the soothing emptiness she had refused for too long. Within his arms even in her grief she seemed at peace.

**Author's Note:**

> 


End file.
